


Late

by Tyrelingkitten



Series: x Days of OTPs [14]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 27 Days of OTP, 31 days of otp, M/M, challenge, themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-07 23:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrelingkitten/pseuds/Tyrelingkitten
Summary: A late night visitor to Trowa's bed.Prompt - 27 days of otp//14 - spooning





	Late

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt - 27 days of otp//14 - spooning

It was the rumble of the car engine that passed underneath his window that had woken him. Someone had entered the premise. During the war Trowa would have been right on his feet, weapon in hand and hiding in the shadows behind the door. Ready for a surprise attack.  

 

But nowadays, he remained lying curled up on his side, his ear perked up to pick up any sounds that might have been out of the ordinary. His flight or flee instinct wasn’t ringing any alarm bells.

 

Nothing.

 

This was a safe place.

 

It was still safe.

 

… Quatre.

 

Trowa relaxed even more and inhaled into the pillow underneath his cheek.  

 

The door to his room creaked open and soft padded feet slowly made their way to the bed. The end of the bed sagged under another weight as someone crawled in under the covers, settling behind Trowa.

 

“Hey, love.” Quatre murmured, pressing a kiss onto Trowa’s shoulder and wrapped one arm around Trowa’s waist.

 

“‘Ey, you’re late.” Sleep had muffled his voice down to a mumble. He was sure Quatre had heard him. Trowa craned his neck to press his lips on Quatre’s mouth, missed and got his nose instead.

 

Quatre chuckled. “Sorry. Meeting went overtime.”

 

Trowa tried to wiggle around to face him, but Quatre pressed his elbow down to keep him in place, throwing one leg around Trowa to make a point.

 

“Want to talk about it?” Trowa stilled obediently, reluctantly accepting his position.

 

He laced his fingers with Quatre’s own, staring heavy-lidded into the darkness at the dresser across the room.

 

“Not tonight.” Quatre said. Trowa felt Quatre curl against his back, forehead against his skin and breath tickling his spine. “Go back to sleep, love.”

 

“Okay.” Trowa’s voice was soft. Softer than before. “Good night.”

 

Trowa heard the faint mumble behind his back and slowly drift off into a dreamless sleep. They’ll talk about it tomorrow when Quatre’s ready.

  
 


End file.
